


A Boy and His Dog

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Animal Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Kid Fic, Little Scott, ProScott, Roxie - Freeform, Scott McCall As Primary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Scott always wanted a dog, but he never thought he'd find a puppy as perfect as Roxie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Boy and His Dog

Roxie was about yea high with a bushy tail and a button nose. Her ears were large and floppy, even if the left was mostly chewed off, and her hair a curly puff of fur. A special - very special - type of terrier breed, she was a friendly puppy. Even if she had the bladder the size of a pea, in Scott’s eyes, she was absolutely perfect. He remembered the first time he saw her, more than a year ago, when Mr. Griswold was out on his rocker. She didn’t even bark at him when Scott had come to mow the lawn, and she ate treats off of his palm.

It was sad when Mr. Griswold had a heart attack, but when his granddaughter, Jenny, started asking around the neighborhood for anyone to take in his pet, Scott saw an opportunity more clearly than he had anything in his short life.

The first few days after his decision, he broke his summer record of number of mowed lawns in a day, and tried to convince his boss to give him a longer paper route. Scott was determined to show that he could take care of Roxie. Stiles might have accidentally flushed Bubbles the Fish down his toilet, but Scott had to prove that he would be a good dad an actual real pet. He never thought he’d be allowed to try, his asthma always got in the way, just like it got in the way of everything else in his life. He was always the slowest kid in class because of it, always too lame to make friends, and too much of a problem to keep his mom and dad from fighting. Roxie was his chance though. Roxie was a soft coated wheaten terrier, specifically bought because Mrs. Griswold, when she’d been around, had the worst allergies.

If Scott could prove that he was responsible enough, maybe his parents would let him keep her. He had to plan everything down to the tiniest detail. It was risky, but nothing could change Scott’s mind once it was set. He had everything prepared for Saturday night. He’d help his mom cook after her shift at the hospital, and set the table, and his mom and his dad would be in a good mood (they had to be, they just had to). Then Scott would show them all the money he saved, and explain why Roxie would be the perfect addition to their family (like all those adoption websites suggested). He’d convince them that they’d fall in love with her, and everything would be okay.

As Saturday approached, Scott worked himself to the bone, dragging himself home earlier and earlier even though his curfew wasn’t until sundown. His mom asked him about it once, and Scott jerked in his seat like he’d been electrocuted.

“It’s - I just gotta work,” he said, trying to act casual when he wasn’t entirely sure what acting casual meant. “Because I wanna be responsible. Yeah, I have to be.”

Melissa’s expression was kind, and she scooped another serving of lasagna on his plate. “I have such a mature little boy. It’s no wonder Jenny likes you.”

Scott was too young to notice the playful warmth in her words, patting himself on the back. Pride didn’t last long. His expression fell when Melissa spoke next.

“It’s a real shame she had to go home early. I was hoping she could come over for lunch tomorrow.”

All at once, it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling, and Scott gripped the edge of the table before he could fall. Quietly he berated himself for getting his hopes up, for not telling his parents sooner, for letting Roxie pass him by. He picked at his dinner unhappily, trying to convince himself that having a dog would have been a disaster anyway. He wasn’t responsible at all. He didn’t hear his Mom when she first asked him to get more napkins from the closet down the hall. When he finally did, all he could do was sigh, excusing himself and dragging his feet every step of the way. He never got to the closet.

A sign was taped to the bathroom door with a large heart construction paper heart and the words ‘Open me Scott.’

Gifts weren’t unexpected outside of Christmas and his birthday. They couldn’t afford extravagant things like the video game systems at Stiles’s house or a new bike to replace the one he out grew last year. Still, his mom tried to bring a little joy with even the mundane, wrapping up new socks or new notebooks for school just because Scott loved to tear through the paper. It made even the clothes from Goodwill or the cheap toys they picked up at the dollar store feel special. It had never been something this big before. The box was almost as tall as he was, cut with small round holes and wrapped with an expensive foil paper that he was afraid to rip in case they could save it for something else. The bow on top was curled and slightly askew, spilling ribbons down the side.

Scott looked back at his mom who leaned in the door to his room for permission, breaking into a wide grin when she nodded. He didn’t notice the dark look his father gave to his mother, a silent disapproving scowl.

He peeled back the paper carefully, wiggling the lid of the box off slowly as the entire thing seemed to move on its own. A furred face popped out with a bark, bowling the young boy over as the dog sprang from the box and attacked him with her tongue. “Roxie!!” Scott wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. Maybe both? He scratched her cheeks, ears flopping in all directions as she battered the young boy excitedly with her flailing tail. “She’s  _mine_? You mean I really get to keep her?”

“As long as you’re the one who takes care of her, Scott.” Melissa was beaming, but firm on the rules. “A dog is a lot of responsibility. You have to walk her every day and make sure she gets enough water, food, and exercise. Your Dad and I won’t be picking up after her.”

“I promise! I’ll take such good care of her, you’ll see.”

“If that dog makes a mess in the house, I’m taking it out back and shooting it.” Rafael grumbled quietly. “We are barely making enough as it is, I don’t know why you have to bring in another mouth to feed. This is a waste of money.”

“We’ll make it, it’ll be good for him. You know Scott doesn’t have many friends and it’ll be good to teach him about responsibility.” Melissa said, pulling Rafael into the hallway so the brewing argument wouldn’t disturb Scott’s moment. They’d had this fight a thousand times before and would no doubt have it a thousand more times.

“That’s because he spends so much time with that damn Stilinski kid. You say that because you’re not the one working, Melissa. I’m the one trying to put food on the table!”

“And yet you’re the one who has all these ideas about me working outside of the house.”

“I’m supposed to be the man here.  _I_  am. I’m the one who takes care of the family.”

“Then why don’t you actually do more taking care of us instead of spending so much time at the bar?” She bit back, patience frayed. Their son was happier than he’d been in months and Rafael was taking what was supposed to be a special moment and twisting it like he did everything else. Her husband’s mouth thinned into a bitter line and he stomped away. All the better, she didn’t need him like this and Scott certainly didn’t.

Burying her anger deep, she stepped back into her son’s room and wrapped the young boy up in her arms, giving Roxie a pat. “You take good care of her and she’ll take care of you too, Scott.”

The pair was immediately inseparable. Scott had never had anything that belonged wholly to him before and certainly nothing that depended on him like Roxie. She was quick to learn tricks, the two of them shaking hand-to-paw and rolling down grassy hills. She curled at the foot of his bed, keeping his toes warm at night with dedication and chased down Stiles every time he tried to pull her tail. Even on the nights when the fights would escalate and Scott would hide under his covers to escape the sounds of screaming and dishes smashing against the floor, the little terrier would wiggle herself under the sheets and lick his face, reminding the boy he wasn’t alone.

Scott took very good care of her. Melissa never had to remind him to buy more dog food or fill her bowl or take her out for walks, even if it meant cutting down on his free time. Rafael was easier to please; he never seemed to have much interest in his kid, let alone his kid’s dog. As long as Scott kept her out of his sight, everything would be okay.

Armed with a wad of plastic bags and a scooper he once chased Stiles around the yard with, Scott walked Roxie at 3:30 PM every day, even on weekends, down their neighborhood block and towards the park down the street. By the time they got back, both owner and dog were sweaty and exhausted, ready to gulp down glass after glass of cold water and prepared to vegetate in front of the television before dinner had to be started. It took Scott a little too close to the woods, but in the middle of the day, no one seemed to mind as much. As long as he stuck to the sidewalk, they were going to be okay. It only took a few months for it to become their route, and Scott was convinced Roxie could run it even without her leash on, so when she started barking, he didn’t know what to do. “Roxie?”

The terrier strained at her leash, pulling the little boy along behind her. He yelped in alarm, holding on with both hands as he tried to calm her down. “Roxie! It’s okay, girl. Stop pulling, slow down! Please!” She was going to pull his arm out of his socket and the boy struggled to stay on his feet.

A low growl set Roxie wild and she bristled, fur standing on end as she planted herself between Scott and the edge of the woods. Something lurked just beyond the trees, leaves rustling as it stalked the oblivious boy who was too worried about his pet to notice the thing that hunted him. With a howl, the stray burst from the bushes with enough force to send Scott sprawling to the sidewalk. He gasped, breath knocked from his body.

Roxie was a wild thing at the end of her leash, snarling as she threw herself at the German Shepard. The other dog was more than twice her size, feral and mangy as it tore the little terrier apart. She stood her ground, yipping in pain as the stray ripped a chunk of flesh from her side. Scott screamed, leash wrapped too tightly around his hand to let go as he was dragged across the ground. Blood sprayed his skin, soaking into the sleeves of his shirt as something in his shoulder popped painfully.

Scott couldn’t move, his mouth twisted in a silent plea for help as tears streaked down his face. He watched with unbelieving eyes as Roxie was thrown across the grass like a tattered rag doll. She didn’t get back up.

In the distance someone was yelling. Something that sounded suspiciously like a car backfiring rang through his ears, but Scott couldn’t care when strong bands of steel crawled across his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. They tightened and tightened, crawling up his throat until Scott was sure there was something sitting inside his chest, filling the space air should have been. _Help_ , he wanted to say, but he couldn’t drag in enough air.  _Help me please!_ Everything was too sharp, and too hot. Every breath was a battle Scott didn’t think he could win, and his vision swam in and out of focus as his lips tinged blue.

“Someone call 911!”  Someone shouted overhead. There was something acrid on his tongue, and Scott cried out as pain bloomed across his side. Steady hands framed his neck, holding him up. It took him a moment too long to realize someone had his inhaler to his mouth. He took one puff, then another, and another, but it was only when he heard the sound of ambulance sirens in the distance did Scott find the strength to breathe.

It had never been like this before. When the doctor made him start carrying an inhaler a few months ago, it was because he’d started wheezing whenever he and Stiles chased each other around the house or struggled with too-big lacrosse sticks out in the yard. It was just a precaution his mom worried about and something he more often than not forgot on his dresser or stuffed in the bottom of his backpack. He didn’t want to have asthma or let anyone see the inhaler, he was a weird enough kid as it was. If anyone thought he was sick on top of it, then he’d go from being ignored to being a target.

But this felt like he was drowning, and he flailed his arms against the EMTs as he fought to pull himself to the surface. His heart banged against his ribs that crushed down into his chest, entire body shaking with the effort to breathe. One of the EMTs held an oxygen mask across his face as Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, letting the black sparks at the edges of his vision tunnel down and swallow him whole

“Scott! C’mon baby, breathe. You’ve got to breathe.”

White walls flashed overhead and everything was muted in a blur of senseless noise. He recognized his mom’s face, stretching out a bloody hand with the leather leash still wrapped tightly around his wrist. “Roxie? Mom, where’s Roxie?”

“She didn’t make it baby. Don’t try to talk.”

“Mom don’t…” He tried to say, voice catching in his throat. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from crying, and the last thing he remembered before everything faded away, was a gentle hand on his cheek and how Scott needed to see her just one last time.

_Mom don’t leave me._  

He drifted for a bit, exhausted even after his breathing stabilized and his shoulder was carefully popped back into place. Scott was barely aware of the nurses helping him into a hospital gown, or the warm washcloth that wiped away dried blood. It was as flimsy as a sheet, but it was better than the stained mess he was wearing.

“Is he awake yet? Can I see him?” Scott heard something familiar and shrill from far away, but nothing focused. He was awake only for long enough to notice a white stuffed bear with a Superman cape had been dropped off by his bed. When the nurses came to check up on him, it was tucked under his arm.

_What about Roxie?_  He wanted to ask, but there was no one around.  _Where’s Roxie?_

”We can’t afford this. He’s going home tonight! He’s  _fine_! Those crackpot quacks are just trying to avoid a lawsuit!”

Scott closed his eyes, turned into his bear, and tried to block out the sound of his Dad yelling.

“This is your fault, you know.” Rafael snapped and Scott winced, trying to wiggle down under the hospital sheets and disappear. “If you hadn’t given him that damn dog, none of this would have happened! I told you not to do it.”

“This isn’t anyone’s fault! And how dare you completely ignore the fact our son almost  _died_.” Scott had never heard his mother sound so angry, voice raised loudly enough to carry down the hall. “We almost lost him, Rafe, and all you care about is the hospital bills.”

“One of us has to care about the bills, Melissa. I’m the only one working, you don’t seem to get that. And he’s  _fine_. It’s just asthma, if he was stronger, then it wouldn’t even be an issue.”

“ _How dare you_.” There was a crack of skin on skin and a stunned silence. The boy held his breath, bruised lungs aching as he tried to imagine himself somewhere else. Anywhere else.

“I need a drink.” His father finally spoke. “If you care so much, why don’t you get a fucking job too? Be a nurse or something, at least that way you can take care of  _your_  son the next time he throws a fit like this for attention and it won’t drain our savings.”

The sound of angry footsteps squeaking against the tiled hospital hallways died away and the door cracked open. Scott tried to remain as still as possible as if he were sleeping, not responding when his mother put a cool hand to his forehead and brushed his hair back. “Maybe I will. I’m going to take care of you, baby. We’re going to be okay.”

* * *

_“We’re going to be okay.”_ Scott whispered, combing his fingers through soft tawny fur, and got a half-croaked whine for his trouble.

She was a little terrier with too big paws and large floppy ears that smacked her in the face when she turned too quickly. A bright smile and gentle hands greeted her, petting her out of her vaccine-induced daze.

“Thank you Dr. Scott!” Sally said, her tone very serious for a middle school student, as she carefully bundled her puppy into her arms. She could walk, but Sally didn’t want her to, not when she planned on carrying her all the way through their car ride home.

“I’m not a doctor yet.” But his correction fell on deaf ears, and Scott was almost thankful for it.

“Do you have a dog, Dr. Scott? We can come over to play!”

Scott’s expression softened, and he scratched her puppy behind her overgrown ears. If his smile was a little more brittle than it had been, Sally was too young to notice. “No, I’ve never had much luck with pets. Come on, Sally. Your Mom’s waiting. I bet Buttercup wants to go home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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